When Quinten was born his parents had just moved into a small house just outside Honeyhill. His father was a proud farmer and wanted what was best for his son and so he worked his socks off, despite being known by very few in the town as their family was not a prolific one. He had always grown up looking for a contact or some form of admiration from one of the bigger families within the Halfling community, like the Applefoots or the Greenholms. Quinten spent the days drawing his dad out in the fields or his mother putting out the clean sheets for the beds. He found lots of joy in his work and often tried to show it around to the other halflings in the village but was often ignored. This gave him the push he needed to get up and start doing something with his life and he found himself in search for a teacher of sorts to give him a good skill, something he could pride himself in.
Slightly startled, Quinten stumbles onto his heel and readjusts the bag slung over his shoulder "O! 'ello t'ere" He gave a great big toothy smile "Well, I's t'ink i'm 'ere fer some fame an' for'une! I's jus' wan' teh ge' some'fin of eh name fer m'self." He pulled his bag up his shoulder and gave a look of determination to the gentleman, quickly covering his eyes as the sun glared into them "I'd be grea' teh ge' some teachin' on how teh crea'e me a golem too!" He gave a chuckle and patted his stomach heartily "Roigh' I t'ink I's bes' be goin' now then! Plen'y o' foods teh be ea'ing! See ya feller!"
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